


This Ain't a Fun Job, Kid

by coldhope



Category: Cars (Movies), Planes (Movies)
Genre: Introspection, Post-Movie, dusty considers things, i'm gonna just have to make this into a series of drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldhope/pseuds/coldhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-<i>Planes: Fire and Rescue</i>: Dusty comes back from working a fire, exhausted and damaged, and has some little time to consider his place in the world while Maru cleans ash and debris out of his intakes. Might just be the beginning of a series of drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ain't a Fun Job, Kid

It's July: the driest, hottest July in years, the peak, the absolute rooftree of fire season. And all of them are feeling it. 

Dusty had come back with Windlifter from working a fire by Coil Springs, exhausted and red-eyed, his paintjob the worse for wear after a sudden roaring chimney-plume of smoke and embers had caught him unaware. He'd insisted he was fine, but his persistent hacking cough all the way back to base had made Windlifter order him to go see Maru before Blade could hear it. The Sikorsky hadn't had to point out that Blade would get all _intense_ about the safety rules, and Dusty hadn't had to answer that he _had_ followed them--up until the one where you weren't supposed to work through injuries. And he hadn't, not really, he's had much worse than this.

He feels like there's still smoke and ash in his compressors, even though there can't be anything much left in there by now. Still, Windlifter had rumbled sternly at him and he really is awfully tired, and maybe Maru can deal with whatever's stuck in there without letting anybody know. When they get back to base he doesn't argue any further, just coming in to land and rolling up to the repair bay, glad to see that the smokejumpers are still busy and Dipper isn't there to ask solicitous questions. She's eased off a bit on the _I like watching you sleep_ creepitude, but Dusty is still glad she's busy elsewhere right now. 

"Ma--" he starts, and can't finish, coughing. Ow, that really doesn't feel good, maybe Windlifter might have had a point. "Maru?"

"Shelby, kid, you sound flippin' _terrible_." Maru is there, squinting up at him. "Look pretty terrible too. What was it, you fly through a volcano out there?"

"Mmh. Just an updraft. Embers." He coughs again, squeezing his eyes shut; when he opens them again Maru has pushed the access ramp out into the shop floor. "Fire's contained."

"I imagine so, otherwise Wind wouldn'ta come on back. C'mon, come over here, lemme see what's goin' on."

"Aren't you going to say 'this won't hurt a bit'?" Dusty coughs, but he just obeys, popping his engine cowling and settling back with his eyes shut, feeling the mechanic begin to poke and prod.

"Nah, you're not a newbie anymore. We're past the Pleasant Lying stage. --Wow," Maru says. 

"What?"

"Next time, how about you do the easy thing and come up to me and go 'hey, Maru, I need new intake filters' instead of trying to suck air through half a season's worth of ash and slag." He does something that hurts sharply, and Dusty starts to cough again, hard, painfully, reminded of being rescued from drowning, how much it had hurt. 

"Hey," Maru says. "Hey, kid. Take it easy. I gotcha." He tries to say something, but can't make it work, and then there's the hissing whine of a shopvac and the sudden suction is cold, _cold_ , and he thinks maybe he can drift for a little while, maybe it's okay, he's worked pretty hard today and catching a couple of Zs is justifiable, right? Right?

The next thing Dusty knows, it's dark outside. His engine cowling is closed, and the awful itching feeling is gone; he can breathe more easily than he's done in a while. He blinks, waiting for the shop to come into focus around him. It's quiet, calm, only the faint sound of the radio playing oldies and the sigh and hum of the crickets outside. 

"Back with us?" Maru says, and Dusty _knows_ he hasn't made a sound, hasn't moved, but somehow the mechanic's aware that he's awake again. He shifts awkwardly, not completely sure the discomfort is gone, but a little stretching tells him that there's nothing left to bother him. Maru comes round from behind him to push the ramp away.

"Yeah," Dusty says, slowly. "What...what time is it?"

"Gettin' on for nine. You were worn out, I figured you needed the sleep."

"Nine? Where is everybody?"

"Far's I know the kids are watching TV--no, actual TV TV, not _Howard the Truck_ \--and Patch and Dipper and Dynamite are sucking horribly at cards. Why?"

"Does anybody know I'm in here?"

Maru eyes him. "Well, I think they mostly do, on account of you ain't exactly invisible. Why?"

Dusty winces. "It's embarrassing, is all."

"What is? Being too much of a dumbass to recognize when your air intake screens are gettin' clogged?"

"Well--no, I mean--"

"This ain't a fun job, kid," Maru says. "You get hurt, you get exhausted, it happens. Nobody's gonna think any less of you cause you had your filters clogged. Which, by the way, I've put in some new replaceable screens to make sure you don't end up with stuff in your actual engine again. Also just in passing it'd be grand if you could try to not get water in there again, just saying."

"Blade isn't mad?"

"What, at you because you sucked in some ash? Yeesh. Kid."

Having it put like that does kind of bring things into perspective. "I guess not."

"Blade has got better things to be mad at. Anyhow, you're okay: you got back here, you came in to get fixed, no harm and no foul. Now get the hell outta here, and don't fly through any more embers, your paint's on order and I won't have it till next week."

He stretches stiffly. "Thanks. Thanks, Maru."

"Don't mention it. You better fuel up before you sleep, tomorrow looks like it's gonna be pretty busy."

Dusty nods. He's absurdly thirsty, he realizes, and trundles out of Maru's shop still sleepy in the darkness--sleepy enough that he isn't paying attention to much of anything until after he's filled up in the main hangar and is about to head back to his own quarters. 

"--sure he's okay?"

It's a very familiar voice. Dusty freezes inside the doorway, listening.

"Yup. Had to clean out a bunch of gunk from his engine, he was congested pretty bad, but he's doing fine. Mostly just scared of you yellin' at him."

There's what sounds like a mildly exasperated sigh. "He's fit to fly, though?"

"Should be A-OK in the morning. Speaking of, you look frigging terrible, you want to go get yourself a drink and try to remember how normal people relax."

"You know any, so I could ask them?"

"Touche," says Maru, and although he knows he needs to hustle out of there, to get back to his own hangar to sleep, Dusty can't help smiling a little: the fondness in Maru's voice is unmistakable. 

He trundles out of the main hangar and across the darkened tarmac toward his own quarters, half-listening to the quiet sound of conversation and to the wry laughter which floats out on the night air: unfamiliar, unexpected, somehow slightly wonderful laughter.


End file.
